


Lovers' End

by tristesses



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daphne and Pansy decide to take advantage of an opportunity and play a few games - or rather, get a little revenge on Astoria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers' End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for slumber on LJ during HP Yule Balls, with the prompts jealousy, cliquey Slytherins, banter, and scheming.

A trimmed, glossy nail runs along the rim of the glass, dipping quickly into the pale liquid and lingering there before Pansy sucks the globule of wine off her finger. Daphne watches her red lips pucker into a kiss as she licks the last trace from her knuckle. Astoria is watching too.

Stealing a quick glance at her sister across the table, Daphne sees her sitting rigid, eyes dark with fury. Never good at hiding her emotions, was Astoria. Very un-Slytherin of her, but then, the only reason she was in that House was her bull-headed ambition to marry rich - _very_ rich. Well, she managed that at least.

Daphne tilts her gaze to Pansy again, and compares Pansy's lovely, angular face to Draco's weaselly one - he hasn't aged well, poor sap, she observes. Pansy winks at her, clearly aware of what's going on in her mind, and Daphne allows a smirk to curve her lips in reply. She rather thinks she came out on top, in the end.

"So, Pansy," Dardanos Greengrass says, breaking the tense silence with his raspy voice. He puffs on his cigar - Daphne can practically see Draco's face twist in revulsion at this Muggle affectation - and continues. "May I just say that it was unexpected to see you here?"

"But charming, I'm sure," Pansy replies with a dagger-thin twitch of her lips that just may be a smile. "I certainly am enjoying the company. Aren't you, Astoria?"

Astoria's eyes narrow and her shoulders tense.

"The wine is exquisite," she says in a clipped, formal tone, "and the company nearly so."

"Why, Astoria," Pansy drawls, and her eyes are flashing, and Daphne has to bite the delicate inner skin of her cheek to keep from smirking outright. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were falling prey to nostalgia. I remember an evening just like this in seventh year, drinking wine on the top of the Astronomy Tower. Missing our good old times at school, are we?"

"It's difficult to remember specifics," Astoria snaps, "as I don't recall ever seeing you without alcohol in your hand. It must be hereditary."

The snide remark about Pansy's drunkard of a father does not go unnoticed, except by Draco. He looks from his wife to Pansy as if he's not sure what's going on. Pansy's smile slips off her face like a piece of dropped china, and she glances down at the expensive wine swirling gently in her glass.

"Well," she replies, lowering her eyes demurely, "I'm not sure if I ever saw you without a man or two on your arm - or _elsewhere_ \- so I suppose neither of us have changed."

"Pansy, dear," Daphne interjects, laying a hand on Pansy's silk-clad thigh, and glancing along the table at Astoria. "My sister. Why don't we reminisce about the good parts, and leave the less attractive ones to be forgotten?"

"A good idea, my love," Pansy sighs, covering Daphne's hand with hers. Astoria quivers in suppressed anger as Pansy lets her fingers linger and stroke Daphne's wrist. "After all - " she turns her piercing gaze to Astoria, " - we were just children then."

"Quite," Astoria bites out. "Where is that blasted house-elf with dessert? Quilly!"

They were simply children, Daphne reflects, and just as passionate and cruel as all children are - especially Slytherins. Cruelty was exemplified in Astoria, her prettier, younger sister, whose blonde curls and deep Mediterranean skin framed a petite figure and delicate bone structure Daphne could only envy, despite her similar features. Although Daphne was a year and a half older, it was her sister who swept into the queen's position and left Daphne as a lady-in-waiting at her side - a role the older sister was accustomed to, if not entirely happy with. It was probably her unhappiness with being constantly thought of as a watered-down version of her sister that led Daphne to confess something to Astoria she wouldn't have dared tell anyone else. Something that would have had her disowned, had her parents found out.

Of course, Astoria didn't need to worry about that, being the youngest child and not the heir, so Daphne's confession only led to Astoria and Pansy flirting baldly over meals, Astoria and Pansy sneaking kisses in the dungeon, Astoria and Pansy sneaking into the seventh-year dorms and fucking in Pansy's bed, right across from Daphne, their moans and giggles barely muffled by the second-rate _Silencio_ cast over the canopy bed.

Did Astoria ever love Pansy? Maybe, maybe not - Astoria tends to treat people like toys, tossing them away when she's outgrown them - but Daphne knows Pansy loved her, probably more than Pansy was capable of loving anyone else. Oh, yes; Daphne's aware Pansy isn't with her now out of affection, but out of a desire for simple revenge. The concept applies vice versa, too; Daphne has no intention of letting a Parkinson - a downtrodden, dishonored, dirt-poor Parkinson - into her family, no matter what kind of schoolgirl crush she had on her fellow Slytherin in seventh year. But if the way Astoria glares at that hand on Pansy's thigh is any indication, she takes Daphne's involvement with the woman as trespassing on her territory. Perhaps she thinks Daphne is playing with her toys - she's never been good at sharing. And really, Daphne thinks, polishing off the last of her wine, that glow of anger and embarrassment shining in Astoria's eyes is reward enough for this charade.

Plus, the sex is magnificent.

****

. . .

"This was a brilliant idea," breathes Daphne, slipping an arm around Pansy's waist as she lengthens her pace to match strides with the taller woman. "She's positively fuming."

"Isn't she, though?" Pansy chortles in reply, and rakes a hand through her straight black hair. "Serves her right, seducing me and then having the audacity to break it off and marry my boyfriend!" The words have the ring of a complaint said so often it's mutated into a dark joke, and Daphne smirks accordingly.

"The audacity indeed," she agrees. "But then, she's always been a jealous little bitch. I'm not surprised about any of it, Merlin knows she couldn't stand me having something without her stealing a slice."

"I'm insulted that you just compared me to a pastry," Pansy complains, a glint in her eye. "But perhaps - "

"If I eat you like one, will you forgive me?" asks Daphne, and just saying the crass words makes her ignite, a throbbing making itself known between her legs at the thought. They've stopped dead in the hallway, half-shadowed by the draping tapestries and the flickering orange flames of the torches. Pansy curls her fingers around the nape of Daphne's neck and presses a kiss to her lips, wet and open mouthed.

"Oh, perhaps," she murmurs. "Let's just see how well you do."

The only bedrooms that lie down this hall are Daphne's and Astoria's - who will, of course, be accompanied by Draco, but that's hardly a deterrent for either Pansy or Daphne - so Daphne makes no pretense at subtlety when she pushes Pansy against the stone wall, deepening their soft kisses into harder ones, filled with bite. She works at the clasps of Pansy's robe while the other woman moans throatily, kissing Daphne's lips, the point of her jaw, leaving red lipstick smeared like blood on Daphne's tanned skin.

"I hope your sister sees," Pansy groans, and Daphne slips her hand under the silken robe, caressing nude skin, curving her hand around Pansy's waist then tracing a path to the tender spot between Pansy's shoulderblades - and digging in with her nails, scratching down so Pansy jumps and twists against her, gasping.

"Bad girl," Pansy breathes appreciatively, and Daphne huffs out a laugh, bringing her hand around to cup Pansy's breast.

"No, I think you are," she whispers. "A Lifting Charm instead of a bra, Pansy? What if your robe had fallen open at dinner?"

"Then I guess your father would've got an eyeful," Pansy says, and tilts her head back to accommodate Daphne's mouth on her collarbone. "Besides, bras are so awfully pedestrian - Daphne! What - "

To Daphne, there is nothing more satisfying than that sharp intake of breath and the lilting surprise coloring Pansy's voice when Daphne pinches her nipple, hard, then lowers her head to soothe it with her tongue.    
"I don't think you're objecting," Daphne mocks lightly, "not if what your body's doing is any indication."

Pansy cants her hips toward Daphne, grinding against Daphne's thigh, her green robes spilling around her waist, leaving her torso entirely bare.

"My only objection is if you stop," she pants in reply.

Daphne falls to her knees, nibbling a trail across Pansy's stomach, admiring the red hickeys she leaves in her wake. Tugging at the verdant silk, she manages to yank it past Pansy's hips, baring the witch's slim white thighs and dark curls to her sight.

"Delicious," she whispers, and Pansy moans, adjusting her position, spreading her legs for easier access as Daphne dips her head, tongue flicking delicately across Pansy's folds.

"More," Pansy sighs, "please," and Daphne obeys, licking her fingers before sliding them between Pansy's slick lips, teasing her entrance with one finger, tilting her head to lap at Pansy's clit. Hard and fast, that's how Daphne likes it, and how she prefers to give it, too; the sort of furtive, vicious five-minute sex that leaves her partner clinging to the wall and trembling.

"Yes," Pansy hisses, and twines her fingers in Daphne's hair. "Yes, like that - " Her grip tightens, pulling Daphne's locks tight against her scalp. "Yes, right there - " and she presses Daphne's face against her cunt. Daphne obliges, sucking harder on that sensitive knot of nerves, working her fingers inside Pansy, her chin and cheeks wet with Pansy's arousal.

Pansy's loud when she comes, screeching her pleasure to the stone walls, hips jerking while Daphne steadies her, grip firm. While Pansy slumps against the wall, breathing heavily, Daphne glances down the corridor to see a dark figure backlit by the glow of brighter lights from the main hall: Astoria. She wiggles her fingers in a little wave, and the figure nearly twitches before spinning around and departing, pace speedy and furious. Daphne gives her sister a sneer before rising from her knees; when she looks at Pansy she sees that Astoria's presence didn't go entirely unnoticed.

"I never screamed like that for her," Pansy confides, taking a deep breath to calm herself before gathering her robes from around her feet. She slips her arms into the sleeves, leaving it loose and unbuttoned, her skin a pale strip against the dark green silk. "You're much better in bed. She was so … inexperienced."

"Whereas I, my dear, am not. Shall we continue this in my bedroom?" Daphne wipes her mouth off with a corner of her robe, making a mental note to have the house elves wash it later. "I'm the sort of witch who demands reciprocation, you understand."

"Of course," says Pansy, and when she looks at Daphne her gaze is inscrutable. "But since this is all for Astoria's benefit, and she won't be able to hear us … "

"But she'll know tomorrow at breakfast, when we come in looking well-fucked and satisfied," Daphne reasons. She's always been a most persuasive woman. "And who decreed that we mice - or should I say snakes? - couldn't play while the cat's away?"

Pansy snickers in response, although her eyes remain unreadable. She links her arm through Daphne's, and murmurs, "You have a point, love. You have a point."

****

. . .

The next morning, Pansy bites into her peach, and the juice runs down her fingers and collects in the hollow of her palm. Daphne watches as she licks the sticky liquid away, her pink tongue darting catlike between her fingers, stroking suggestively up her thumb. She makes eyes at Daphne, then cuts away to look at the other sister.

Astoria stares back, her eyes dark and burning with unidentifiable emotion. Pansy catches the last drop of nectar with her tongue, and smirks.

So does Daphne.

Revenge, as they say, is _sweet_.


End file.
